Art Kumbalek
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? Hey, what with Mother’s Day ’round the corner, I’m reminded it’s time for my sort of annual Art Kumbalek Donor-dough/Greenback/Pin Money/Cookie Jar/Piggy Bank/Petty Cash/C Note/G Note/Stick ’em Up/Raid the Kid’s College Fund/Back Up the Truck/What’s-In-Your-Wallet Money Grab. And just like any other public radio, television, what-have-you nonprofit, my pitch hasn’t changed over the years and it’s not going to until I get some goddamn results.
Hey, I’m as focking sick of it as you are and I wish I didn’t have to do it, but unless you’s start pledging plenty, I’ll be fiscally forced to cram my pitch down your throat ’til you finally cough it up, what the fock.
And so I ask you to fork it over, and I don’t want to hear any pissin’ and moanin’ about your economy low-wage as an excuse as to why you are unable to focking fork it over, thank you very kindly. Excuses are for losers, but if you flip me some dough at any time during my Feather the Nest Week, we can all come out of this as winners, you betcha.
Yeah, I know. Winner? Greasing the palm of some knob in a newspaper would make you, the reader, a winner? Wouldn’t “wiener” be more accurate? Could be. Some people are just natural-born wieners no matter what they do or don’t do, what the fock. Like this guy I knew who goes to see the doctor. He’s got a strawberry jammed up each nostril, a carrot sticking out each ear, and a wiener up his dupa. He says, “Doc, I think there’s something wrong with me.” Doctor says, “Well sir, offhand I’d say you weren’t eating properly.” Ba-ding!
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The future success of this page depends on my ability to convince you readers to pony up and make a special gift. Please take a moment and reflect upon all that you derive from perusing my cram-packed essays week after week (mostly) throughout the year. Reflect upon how much an improved citizen of our country and native of the planet you become each time I explore the meaning of Truth, Justice and The American Way. Reflect upon how much better an understanding of the world around you and of its cultural grab bag you gain when I present you with informational tidbits I’ve gleaned over the years—such as for vacation, Irish families visit a different bar; and that the reason Disney has not built a park in communist China has nothing to do with politics but has everything to do with the height requirement to go on the rides. Ba-ding!
Reflect upon all that and more as you contemplate making a financial contribution that will go directly to increasing the comfortability of my lifestyle, which will translate directly to the ease with which I’m able to slap these important essays together for you’s. Ask yourself where else is it you can go but to this half-a-page to get acquainted with such a varied load of stuff, get the lowdown on everything from the theory of quantum gravity to the correlation between the population of Monkey Island and the price of a pepperoni pizza at the County Zoo? Yeah, the internet or an old-fashioned library, you might say. But hey, what good is that information if you don’t know what I think about it? Abso-focking-lutely nothing.
People in this age and day of the hectic style of fast-paced life don’t have time to think for themselves. Everybody needs a “God’s messenger,” and I can continue to be yours, with your generous financial support. So right now, how ’bout you whip out an envelope and address it this way: Shepherd Express, 207 E. Buffalo St., Ste. #410, Milwaukee WI, 53202, c/o Art Kumbalek. Then stuff the envelope with a couple, three Jacksons and maybe a Franklin or two, or perhaps a properly endorsed check made out to Art Kumbalek—and don’t forget to put a stamp on it, nitwit.
One last reminder: I’m way short of the financial goals needed to support these fine essays. If you’ve never contributed to anything before, now’s the time to get your lazy ass in gear and help me stay on the page. You already know where to send your dough, and listen: I don’t have any practical tote bags or useful coffee mugs to send in return, but I can promise that for the contribution of $50 bucks or more, I’ll find something laying around my dinky apartment I don’t need any more that you can have, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
